Some Kind of Perfect (Calloway Sisters #4.5) (82 page)

I know, soon, we may need to trust him with a lot more.

< 57 >

July 2027

Disneyland

California

DAISY MEADOWS

I’m in charge of three little rambunctious girls today.

I’m the only one who likes the spinning teacups, and this morning, three-year-old Winona and Kinney declared that they wanted to “spin until they puked” and two-and-half-year-old Audrey nodded like
me too.

Rose told me not to put puke on the agenda, and I planned to cross
puke
out and put
fun.
Like total mind-blowingly awesome
fun.

Well, it’s been horrible stomach-curdling
un
-fun.

We’ve been at the Mad Hatter’s teacups for over an hour, and we’ve only whirled on the ride once.

I have all three wiggly girls barely seated on their strollers by the teacups attraction. I place my arm to my mouth, almost gagging, and then I chug a
second
water bottle. My stomach roils and cramps.

Bodyguards surround us so safety isn’t a monstrous issue, even with the growing crowds and people sneaking photographs.

Winona hops off her stroller with a devious laugh, wearing a tiger onesie. Her tail flaps behind her.

I pick up my toddler and set her back, my stomach caving in on itself.
Suck it down, Daisy.
I breathe through my nose, and Winona tries to dart off again. She thinks it’s a game. It might be if I didn’t feel like death just crawled into my stomach and died.

I’m sweating, dizzy and nauseous.

I’m going to puke.

I swallow the feeling. I don’t think the teacups are to blame. I’ve never felt nauseous on rides or car trips or even boats.

“Girls,” I say, squatting in front of their strollers. Redheaded Audrey sits in the middle, wearing a pink princess gown, hands on her sides like it’s what she’s meant to do. Kinney inspects a booger on her finger, dressed as a Jedi Knight, while Winona hangs upside-down in her stroller.

“What if we got
ginormous, humongous
”—I gasp like it’s the craziest thing in the world—“ice cream cones.”

“Huh?” Winona gapes.

“Ice cream isn’t teacups,” Kinney Hale says like it’s just known.

Audrey nods and mumbles something that sounds like,
exactly.

Exhaling a steady breath, I struggle layering on brightness
when I don’t feel well. I used to be great at this, and I don’t know how. I can’t remember the last time I painted on happiness when I felt sick.

It might be a whole nine years ago.

My phone starts ringing. “Ice cream is
better
than teacups,” I try to convince them, but I have to put my forearm to my mouth while I stand up straight. I’m lightheaded for a second, and I shut my eyes.

“Mommy?” Winona is still upside-down.

“I’m okay. Ice cream,” is all I can say before I answer the phone. I only realize it’s
FaceTime
when Rose appears on screen. Shouts from park-goers crackle the speakers.

“Are the girls being little devils? How’s Audrey?” Rose must see herself in the tiny window because she fixes her crooked Mickey Mouse ears.

Jane is wearing identical ones with Rose today.

“They’re good.” I chug more water.

Rose pauses, eyes narrowing towards me. “Are you pale or is that the light?”

“Definitely the light,” I lie and then rotate the camera onto her daughter, the screen still on me. I tell Audrey to say hello to her mom, and Audrey waves like she’s dusting the air.

Rose touches her lips as she smiles.

Not long after, she glances over her shoulder like she feels someone. I catch a brief glimpse of Connor.
Grinning.

“You’re infuriating,” Rose snaps and then tries to raise a hand at his face.

He only grins more. Eliot and Tom suddenly jump out at Rose, trying to scare her.

Rose doesn’t startle.

Then they both clasp her hand, tugging her towards a ride and talking over one another. Rose unconsciously points the camera at the cement.

It makes me so nauseous that I say quickly, “I’ll talk to you later.” I hang up and immediately call someone else.

I can’t do this alone, and I don’t want to try to push through this awful feeling. I just want to spend thirty minutes by a toilet and then curl up in bed.

Ryke answers on the third ring. “Hey, sweetheart.” I’m not sure where he is with the older kids and Lily and Lo. They could be on another side of the park for all I know.

“Ryke—”

“What’s fucking wrong?” Concern deepens his voice.

I don’t even know
how
I said his name, but obviously it alarmed him. “I don’t feel well…” I take a huge, cumbersome breath. I don’t want to let these little girls down, but I can’t be here.

“Are you still at the fucking teacups?” He adds something else, but his voice is muffled. He must be speaking to Lily and his brother.

“Yeah,” I say, “we’re still here.”

“I’m not that fucking far away.”

I remember how he wanted to spend time with his brother—after Lo had that huge talk with Moffy. Maybe it won’t matter that much. Ryke said that Lo is in a good place mentally, and Lo told us bits and pieces about the conversation. Towards the end of the trip, we’re all going to decide what to do about sharing more information with the kids.

I can barely even process pros and cons and what it all means right now.

“Daisy?”

“What?”

“I asked what you fucking ate this morning.”

I think back. I left the park with my sisters for breakfast while the guys took care of the kids. Rose challenged me to eat something new. My lips part in realization. “Uh-oh.”

Shrimp omelet.

“Food poisoning?” Ryke asks now.

“I think…so.” I shut my eyes.
Don’t puke.

“Daddy!” Winona shouts but stays upside-down.

I spin around the same exact time that his hands clasp my face. Ryke absorbs my state of being which is
sickly sick sick.

“Fuck, Dais.” He looks over his shoulder and waves to Price like
we’re fucking leaving.

And then it just all comes up.

I tear out of his arms and puke into the closest bush. Cameras flash. Vomit is my new accessory. Yee-haw.

“Ew, Mommy.” Winona wears a face like I’m stinky and deathly ill all at once. Then I puke again, and she slowly starts crying. “Mommy?”
Afraid.
She’s really afraid.

It twists my stomach.

Ryke tries to approach me, and I push him away. “Nona,” I tell him.

Ryke curses beneath his breath, but he listens and crouches to our daughter. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. He calms down Winona by hugging her to his chest, and then his dark eyes pin to mine.

“Bed, Calloway.”

I can’t even wag my brows and say,
you want to sleep with me?
I just nod thankfully.
Bed.

I’d like that.

< 58 >

July 2027

Disneyland

California

RYKE MEADOWS

I lie on a lounge chair at a hotel pool, phone to my ear. “Text me if you feel good enough to fucking eat something. I can bring up whatever you want.”

Daisy has been in bed for four hours. I hate that she fucking feels like this. “Winona said she wants a big stinking smelly sandwich.”

My lips tic up. I imagine Winona snuggling against Daisy. They’ve been together all day. “Yeah? Ask her where I’m supposed to find that fucking sandwich.”

“The stinky smelly place!” Winona shouts over the phone.

“I’ll get the fuck on that then.” I glance at my brother, who’s on a lounge chair next to me. Lo mouths,
everything good?
He was worried about Dais too.

I nod at him.

“Take pictures and videos?” Daisy asks, hoping I will.

“I already took a fucking ton of Sulli diving, so I’ll send those to you.” The hotel has two pools, and they let us rent the smaller one for the day. It’s the only place our kids can relax (besides the rooms) without being hounded by people they don’t know—or even just recorded on someone else’s phone.

Daisy and I say short
see you laters.
I scroll through my phone and start sending her some videos. Ten minutes pass and I set my phone aside, lower my Ray Bans. Sun beating down on my bare chest. My worn paperback open and splayed on my leg.

Lo seems content, his dark sunglasses on and listening to music in his earbuds. If I strain, I can distinguish the heavy bass and pulsating electronics. Sweat glistens on his abs, and he brings one of his fucking knees up. I find myself scrutinizing him a second longer.

I fucking worry about my little brother, but he doesn’t always need my worry. That fact won’t change how much I care.

“I’ve got an idea,” eight-year-old Eliot Cobalt whispers to Tom, thinking we can’t fucking hear. They dragged a lounge chair towards the edge of the pool, but it’s closest to Lo and me.

Their parents are far across from us, hidden inside a shaded cabana. Lily joined Rose and Connor with the youngest girls: Kinney and Audrey.

Truth is, Lo and I stay under the sun just to keep an eye on the rest of the fucking kids. We don’t trust some of them to be on their own.

My head tilts to Lo at the sound of
I’ve got an idea.
His head tilts right to me, and he pulls out one of his earbuds, listening with me.

“What?” Tom asks his brother.

Maybe they think we’re sleeping. We’ve both been pretty fucking motionless on the lounge chairs.

“Swim to the deep-end,” Eliot continues his plan. “Then pretend to drown. Don’t actually drown, but stay beneath the water so it looks it.”

What the fuck.

Lo and I sit up some.

Skinny little kids, Eliot has straighter brown hair, but not as golden-brown as Tom’s and not as lazily slumped on the fucking lounge chair. Eliot sits straight, his feet skimming the pool.

“If you do that, he’ll jump in to save you.” Eliot briefly glances at the lifeguard, a
teenage
boy in red swim trunks. “Then keep your eyes closed and pretend like you’re dead. He’ll use mouth-to-mouth for CPR…and go for the
kiss
.”

“Dude,” Tom counters, “you just described
Sandlot
.”

Eliot extends an arm. “And it worked.”

Tom mulls this over, eyeing the lifeguard, and then he whispers, “Okay, I’m in.”

Fucking A.
Their chairs creak, and I immediately start standing to physically keep them from pretending to
drown.

My brother is faster with his words. “You two, sit down.”

Eliot and Tom swing their heads to us, not startled by being caught, but they both look seconds from jumping into the water. “We were just about to swim,” Eliot says innocently.

It’s in his eyes. The twinkle of deception. I fucking see it. My brother sees it.
Everyone
sees it.

“Bullshit,” I say, still standing.

They laugh at my swear word and then they sit their asses down. I do one further and drag their lounge chair closer to ours. Their laughs morph into groans of dejection.

“Uncle Ryke,” they complain.

My brother straddles his chair and lifts his sunglasses to his head. Their focus veers to him while I return to my seat.

“First of all, you should be afraid of
me
.” Lo points to his chest.

Eliot and Tom smile like they’re afraid of no one.

Lo holds up two fingers. “Second of all, you’re not fake-drowning to get the attention of someone.”

Tom takes a peek at the lifeguard stand. “What if he’s really cute?”

We’re not suddenly surprised that Tom is attracted to boys and not girls. Rose and Connor cultivated this safe space for their children. Inclusive of just about everything and fucking anything. So when Tom started feeling an attraction towards guys, he didn’t make a speech. He didn’t worry his parents would disown him or fucking hate him or try to convince him to love someone he can’t.

After a while, with casual, everyday mentions of crushing on a boy at school, we all just knew he liked guys.

And it never fucking changed a thing.

Lo squints at the lifeguard and grimaces. “
Thirdly
.” Lo raises three fingers at Tom. “He’s too goddamn old for you.”

“You owe me a dollar,” Eliot says since Lo has been put on
swear jar
this week by Lily. He’s said “goddamn” more times at Disneyland than he has in five months.